


sherlock holmes: consulting matchmaker

by marchh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, M/M, This is definitely crack, dont let him crush your dreams jim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchh/pseuds/marchh
Summary: @ruususuu:have you ever considered jim cheating on mycroft with sherlock(because he thinks mycroft is going to leave him or also cheating so he decides to Retaliate. mycroft wasn't cheating.)





	sherlock holmes: consulting matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruususuu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ruususuu).



 

It’s half past five in the morning but Jim’s already dressed in his sharpest suit, all groomed and manicured, as he hovers over the florist putting the finishing touches on his bouquet. 

 

The florist finally steps back with a sigh, and he’s lucky Jim ignores the grumpy look he’s throwing him. Jim shoves him aside with a wad of cash and inspects the flower arrangement himself.

 

Today is a very important day.

 

.

 

Jim rings the buzzer on 221B Baker Street, and waits.

 

Sherlock Holmes is the one to answer - he throws the door open, takes one look at the bouquet shoved in his face, and frowns.

 

He studies the flowers, matching each to their corresponding meanings at a rapid pace - regret, rejection, grief, mourning… Christ, this was a funeral bouquet. 

 

“Moriarty,” he says, a low and serious one-word greeting fitting for his newest arch nemesis. Sherlock takes the flowers and steps aside, welcoming Jim in with a gesture.

 

“Sherlock Holmes,” Jim says, nodding in return. Then he walks into the bohemian flat with a grim air about him, hands in pockets.

 

“I see you’ve redecorated,” Jim comments, staring at a new pile of mail haphazardly tossed to the floor.

 

Sherlock leaves the flowers in a beaker, all the while eyeing Moriarty.

 

“Tea?”

 

“Why not?” Jim says with a gloomy sigh. 

 

“Please, have a seat,” Sherlock says, putting the kettle on without really looking. He’s not taking his eyes off this criminal, though he is glad John’s out. He might’ve shot him on sight, what with the vest and all. John tended to hold grudges - he still hasn’t forgiven Sherlock for carbonating the milk yesterday. It was a day ago!

 

Then Moriarty does the most peculiar thing: He flops down into the client’s chair.

 

Sherlock squints, just a little, but doesn’t say anything. The water finally boils and he pours, fills the tray, and brings the whole set over.

 

Sherlock pours Moriarty a cup.

 

“So,” Sherlock starts.

 

“I need you to go out with me,” Moriarty interrupts. The man isn’t even looking at him. He blows on his tea, then takes a sip, a sad look on his face. Moriarty, the same manic counterpart he met at the pool, looks the very picture of gloom and doom.

 

Sherlock tilts his head back, and looks over the chair again.

 

“You know, I’m not that kind of ‘for-hire,’” Sherlock says slowly.

 

“I have dinner reservations somewhere where the chef has three Michelin stars. Wear something pretty. I’ll send a car,” Moriarty continues sedately, still not even bothering to give Sherlock a glance.  

 

Sherlock looks at his watch. Dinner? It’s not even seven in the morning.

 

“I’m not hungry,” he says.

 

“Great. We can get engaged there,” Moriarty says absent-mindedly.

 

Sherlock’s jaw drops open, slowly, and he catches himself as he sets his cup down.

 

“Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast…?” he tries. No, he’s had enough of campy banter, and it’s getting them nowhere. “Alright, cut the crap, Moriarty, what are you really doing here?”

 

Jim pouts, fidgeting with his cup.

 

“He doesn’t care,” Moriarty finally says.

 

“Who?” Sherlock demands. He hates difficult clients. And he  _ hates _ working cheating-partner cases. Of all the banal - If Moriarty’s brought him a spy-on-my-wife case - ohh, he is so dead.

 

“Mycroft!” Moriarty says, rolling his eyes and setting down the cup so he can gesture all over the place. “Mycroft Holmes, the man your parents gave birth to, seven years before you! You remember him, yes? Dear brother? The tall one?”

 

Sherlock is rapidly deducing, but the facts aren’t adding up.

 

“No matter what I do, it’s the same, unfeeling response. Five years, and I’m still leaving before the sun is up because we’re  _ not in that kind of relationship. _ I ask, are you seeing anyone else? And he doesn’t even bat an eye!  _ So what if I were, Mr. Moriarty? _ So what if you were?! I’d want to know, if you were! Wouldn’t  _ you _ want to know, if  _ I  _ were? Because I’m not!”

 

The onslaught of new facts hurts Sherlock’s head.

 

Moriarty slumps back in his chair, staring into nothing.

 

“So I think, fine, I’ll flirt with someone else. I’ll flirt with his brother! That ought to be a conversation starter - nothing. I go after his missile plans - nothing. What do I have to do, tank a major counterterrorism project of his to get a text back?”

 

There is a maudlin consulting criminal in Sherlock’s flat, and Sherlock doesn’t want any of this.

 

Moriarty is suddenly alert - he leaps out of his chair and comes to kneel before Sherlock, who sort of scrunches up in his seat in an effort to get away from the man like a small dog might at an approaching vacuum cleaner.

 

“Sherlock Holmes, I need your help,” Moriarty says, hands clasped together in a plea. “Please help me make your brother jealous.”

 

John chooses that moment to walk in through the door.

 

“Holy fucking - Christ!”

 

“Hello, John, didn’t stay for a morning go this time did you?” Sherlock tries to keep his voice level. 

 

John’s eyes dart from Jim on his knees to Sherlock in the chair and then back - he darts for the gun in the drawer.

 

“WAIT-!” 

 

.

 

Sherlock manages to talk his flatmate down.

 

John also manages to keep the gun, but, well, Jim can’t quite bring himself to care.

 

“He is here to woo Mycroft,” Sherlock explains to John, nodding toward the flowers.

 

John’s confusion is evident. “Hang on, I thought he was flirting with  _ you.” _

 

“Yes, to get to  _ Mycroft, _ ” Jim explains, rolling his eyes.

 

Sherlock shakes his head. “John, do at least  _ try _ to keep up.”

 

John turns to Moriarty.

 

“Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t love you because you’re, oh, I don’t know, a  _ psychopath??” _

 

Sherlock just waves him off.

 

“Don’t listen to John, Mycroft’s-”

 

“Oh yes, well, Mycroft’s a megalomaniac and probably just as messed up as you are,” John mutters darkly, shaking his head. “I expect we’ll get the announcement by the end of the week, hm? I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.”

 

He stomps off.

 

“If only,” Jim says, still maudlin. 

 

Sherlock eyes him, considering. Is this why he’s been getting nothing but stupid cases all week? 

 

There were those businessmen wanting him to recover some files, and then the woman who thought her husband was having an affair (UGH), and the man who said his aunt’s ashes had been replaced. Sherlock was absolutely  _ dying _ from the dearth of interesting cases, and it hadn’t occurred to him until then that the answer might have been sitting right in front of him all this time. 

 

“I’ve got it,” Sherlock says, even though he doesn’t actually have a plan. Moriarty must realize too, because he casts Sherlock a suspicious glance.

 

“I know just what to do,” Sherlock lies with enthusiasm. “But you’ve got to promise one thing.”

 

“What?” Moriarty asks skeptically.

 

“Don’t let my brother crush your criminal empire dreams,” Sherlock says solemnly. “You’ve got a real talent, and you’re going places, no matter what he tells you.”

 

“Okay…?”

 

“I’m saying keep the interesting stuff happening! I don’t want to set you up and find suddenly you’ve turned and now we live in a police state, I won’t be part of such a dystopian future,” Sherlock says with a scowl.

 

Jim considers it.

 

“Do you think he was right?”

 

“What?”

 

“Your little pet doctor, do you think the reason Mycroft won’t go any further with the relationship is because- because of my work…?” He says this like it’s really the first time he’s thought about it. Like he’s never considered whether Mycroft Government Holmes might have a problem with his paramour helping the baddies break the law.

 

Sherlock is a little embarrassed to have ever thought this man a worthwhile arch-nemesis. 

 

He promptly, mentally, downgrades him to merely a nemesis. Drat, this meant Mycroft moved back up to the top spot. No, he couldn’t have that either. Was it better to face off with your brother, or brother-in-law? Ugh, they both sounded like terrible options. 

 

“Don’t listen to John,” Sherlock says hastily. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
